Gears and Guitars
by Hot elf
Summary: Simon Hawke has a shitty daytime job and dreams of a successful music career. When his bike breaks down shortly before Christmas, he discovers the new bike shop around the corner - and its charming owner.


"Fuck!" Simon Hawke stared down at the back wheel of his bike, his mind racing. How could this have happened? The tire had been fine in the morning, and now it was completely and utterly flat. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck."

His shift at the supermarket had ended five minutes ago, and the others were expecting him in less than two hours at their scruffy little band practice room all the way across town. He really didn't have time for this shit. After a full day spent stacking shelves and cleaning up customers' messes, his arms and legs were numb with exhaustion. And to make things worse, the wind was getting really chilly now, with a hint of snow on the air.

With a sigh, he got out his phone to look for a repair place. He cursed under his breath when he saw the time. Ten past six on a Friday night. Most of the bike stores had probably already shut down for the night. And sure enough, the first two places he checked had a tiny red "closed" next to their name. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ There was no way he would make it in time if he took the bus. He could already hear Varric's nagging voice. _We'll never get a gig if you lot can't bother to show up for practice on time._

Besides, he _needed_ the bike. He wouldn't even be able to get to work next week without it. Being late for band practice was one thing. But Meredith would probably kick him out without compunction if he wasn't there on time on Monday morning at six, and the first bus was at six thirty.

Maybe he could at least find someone who would fix the bike overnight? If he could pick it up early enough, he wouldn't even have to cancel lunch with his mum and the twins... But the third place he checked had closed an hour ago. Simon cursed again.

Just as he was about to give up and head for the bus stop after all, he noticed another tiny symbol on the map, right around the corner from his apartment, and he remembered. _Bike Wizard_. Of course. He'd noticed the shop sign in passing a few weeks ago, a flashy bike surrounded by multi-coloured sparkles. _Not exactly subtle_. Simon had secretly wondered why this town needed yet another bicycle store. One quick tap of his finger and the website popped up. _Open till 6:30 on Fridays._

With shaking fingers, he typed the number. He felt bad about calling so shortly before closing time, but he really had to-

"This is Bike Wizard, your friendly neighbourhood bike store. My name is Anders. What can I do for you?" The voice at the other end of the line sounded professional, but at the same time so warm and friendly that Simon took heart.

"Um, well, so… my bike has a flat tire, and I know it's late, but I was wondering-"

"Yeah, sure, bring it along." The guy – Anders – didn't sound at all put out. "We'll be around for another thirty minutes or so, if you can make it."

"Thirty minutes should be fine." The surge of relief almost made him sway on his feet. "I'll be as quick as I can. I promise."

"Take your time. We're not going away." Now the guy sounded almost amused.

Pocketing his phone, Simon took a deep breath and unlocked his bike. _All right. It's really not that far. This should be a walk in the park._

When he finally arrived at _Bike Wizard's_ doorstep fifteen minutes later, the ache in his arms had turned into a dull, throbbing pain. He loved his bike, he really did, but why did the darn thing have to be so heavy? He'd tried pushing it, but the tire was so flat that it simply wouldn't budge, so in the end he'd had to half-carry it all the way. He felt like crying when he saw the soft, warm light emerge from the interior of the store. It seemed like a beacon of hope.

Simon dragged the bike over the threshold, looking around while he untangled his scarf and took off his hat and gloves. The store was empty and quiet, except for a tall, lanky guy with a blond pony-tail, who was puttering around behind the counter. When the door-bell rang, he raised his head and smiled, and Simon's heart practically stopped.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion. Maybe he was hallucinating. But he was quite sure he'd never been smiled at like that.

"Hey. You must be the guy with the flat tire. I'm Anders. Let me have a look." He stepped around the corner, and Simon had to stop himself from staring too obviously, because damn it, the guy was _hot_. He was wearing jeans and a frayed t-shirt, and the jeans were tight and low-cut, and the smooth skin of his bare arms was covered in soft golden hairs, and-

 _Damn it, man, get a grip on yourself!_ Simon smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I know it's late, but I was hoping I could maybe pick it up tomorrow."

"Nonsense." Anders squatted on the floor next to the bike and ran a probing finger along the tire. "We can fix it straight away. Right, Jus?"

Another guy emerged from the darkness at the back of the store. He, too, was tall, and even thinner than Anders, and he was dressed in shabby, oil-spattered overalls. His face was gaunt and his eyes deeply set, and he was clearly a man of few words. Running his hand over the saddle in what was almost a caress, he inspected the bike, grunting once or twice and muttering something unintelligible under his breath. At last, he nodded. "Ten."

"See. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Just leave it all to Jus." Another bright smile from Anders made Simon's heart pound faster. "Man, you look tired. Can I offer you a drink?" There was a little fridge behind the counter, filled with a generous supply of beer bottles, and Anders grabbed two without waiting for an answer. "Don't worry, it's the Light stuff. I don't keep any alcohol around the place."

Simon gratefully accepted the bottle and took a deep draught. "Thank you." He felt he should say more, but he was still too tired to come up with something witty.

Jus – what kind of name was that? – carried the bike to the repair area at the back of the store and propped it up on some sort of contraption, then methodically got out a set of tools. His movements were spare and economical, and his expression focussed. Clearly, he knew what he was doing.

"I really should be able to fix this by myself," Simon muttered. He remembered his father showing him how to change a tire, and it hadn't seemed too difficult. Then again, who was he kidding? The plain truth was, he sucked at anything mechanical, and it always made him feel inadequate.

"Hey, that's what we're here for." Anders shrugged gracefully. "And don't worry. A new tube is 10 bucks, and the whole job is 20, including the tube. Actually, I think we're going to make it 15. For you." He winked at Simon, and shit, was he actually _flirting_?

Simon coughed briefly to hide his growing panic. "No, you don't have to- I mean, it's fine. I can pay 20. I've got a job and-"

"I know. I've seen you over at the supermarket." Anders had propped himself up on both arms on the counter, and he seemed to enjoy having an opportunity to chat. "I've tried to catch your eye, but you're always too busy."

 _You have done what?_ Swallowing too quickly, Simon inhaled the beer and sputtered, gasping for breath. "Well. That's nice," he managed to say, trying not to look like a complete idiot. Was Anders always this direct, he wondered.

"I bet they work you like a slave." Anders shook his head, and he looked genuinely offended by the thought. "And I can't imagine they pay well. Why do you work there, if you don't mind me asking? Seems a guy like you should have something more exciting lined up."

Simon shrugged, but at least this seemed a safe enough topic. "I've got a degree in cultural studies. Stacking supermarket shelves is about the only thing I'm qualified for in this economy."

"Cultural studies?" Anders whistled through his teeth, though it wasn't clear if he was impressed by Simon's intellect or by the sheer stupidity of him wasting several years on a subject with practically non-existent job expectations. "So… you're smart, you _really_ like biking, or you wouldn't be out and about in this weather and at this time of the year, and you need a better job. Anything else I should know about you?"

"Well…" Simon was at a loss. He couldn't recall ever having been so blatantly hit on. "I… I play in a band."

"Really? Cool." Anders' smile was back. "And you play… no, let me guess. You play the guitar, right?"

"I do," Simon admitted sheepishly. "The band's called _No Time for Losers_."

Anders was grinning now. "Cool name. And what kind of music do you play?"

"Well, it's hard to describe." Simon licked his dry lips. "Varric... that's our bass player, he calls it progressive indie funk rock. But with a dash of punk."

Before Anders could reply, Jus appeared from the back of the shop, wheeling Simon's bike with one hand on the saddle. "Fixed the brakes, too," he mumbled. "Should be fine now." He rubbed off a speck of dirt on the frame with his oil rag, looking so disapproving that Simon immediately felt guilty for not cleaning his bike more often.

"Oh gosh, thank you so much," he babbled. "I really didn't expect-"

"It's fine." Anders reached for the register. "All right, I said 15, didn't I?" Ignoring Simon's feeble protest, he rang up the sum, and refused to accept more.

Jus merely snorted and walked back to his work bench to put away his tools. Clearly, he was used to his business partner's shenanigans.

"You could bring your bike along for an inspection some time," Anders suggested with a coy look from under his long blond lashes. "We have a special offer coming up next week. Just basic maintenance, you know, plus a full clean-up and some lube for the chain… You can never be too careful."

 _Did he just say lube?_ Forcing his mind out of the gutter, Simon glanced at his bike. It looked much better already, but Anders was probably right.

"Besides, it would give us the chance for another chat." Anders' voice had taken on a decidedly suggestive tone. "What do you say?"

On impulse, Simon decided to be bold. After all, Anders had been more than clear about his interest. "Why wait till next week? Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow? Saturday?" Anders looked surprised, but pleased. "No, I don't. Anything in particular you had in mind?"

"Well, we could…" Simon hesitated. "The Christmas Market opens tomorrow. We could go there, if you like. Have some mulled wine, enjoy the lights…" He let his voice trail off, suddenly worried. Had this been a stupid idea? Had he spoiled it all by suggesting something so cheesy?

But he needn't have worried.

"I think I'd love that." Anders reached over the counter, putting one warm hand on top of Simon's. "We close at five tomorrow. Can you come by and pick me up?"

"Sure." Simon's pulse was racing. "Looking forward to it."

* * *

"How many times have I told you?" Varric sounded querulous. "We might as well not bother at all, if you lot don't care enough about the band to be here on time."

"I do care, Varric. And I'm really sorry." Simon hated how defensive he sounded, but the truth of the matter was, the band was at least as important to him as it was to Varric. Maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it one day, and he could quit the job at the supermarket and have a real life with a real apartment and all the rest. It wasn't likely, but a guy could dream. "I would have been on time. But my bike had a flat tire."

"Ah, man, that sucks." Fenris' deep voice carried easily over from the corner where he was sitting behind his drum set, with Isabela perched on his lap.

The two of them had been making out enthusiastically when Simon had arrived, much to Varric's evident disapproval. He didn't like having _girlfriends_ there at practice, or boyfriends for that matter. But Fenris wasn't the type of guy you argued with about trivialities, at least not if you wanted him to stick around. And Isabela plainly didn't give a damn about anyone's opinion.

It still gave Simon a slight pang to see them together. For almost a year he'd tried to pluck up the courage to ask Fenris out. More than once he'd thought he'd noticed a glimmer of interest in the other man's gaze, but he'd always been too intimidated by Fenris' stunning good looks, those beautiful emerald eyes, the smooth, brown skin, that amazing body… And then Isabela had come along, and she'd had no such scruples. Simon had to admit that they seemed happy together, or at least they were clearly enjoying what they were doing. Fenris' hand was resting on Isabela's firm brown thigh, stroking her skin in lazy circles, and she was nibbling on his earlobe with every sign of enjoyment.

"Poor you. But, how did you get here without your bike?" Merrill's sweet chirpy speaking voice always seemed incongruent to Simon after hearing her sing. There was a lot more power in that slim, willowy body than most people suspected, and once she was on stage, she was a different person, belting out their songs at an impressive volume.

Simon smiled at her. "I got it fixed. There's this new bike store, and the guy there was really nice and helpful, so-" He'd done his best to make it sound innocuous, but he should have known it was pointless. The others knew him far too well.

"Does Mr Helpful have a name?" Isabela was grinning like a cat. "And by the way, I'm assuming by 'nice' you mean hot as hell?"

"He was kinda cute," Simon admitted. "And his name is Anders."

Merrill's eyes immediately went wide as saucers. "Ooooh, you have to tell me more. Did you ask him out?"

Fenris' low chuckle made Simon flinch internally, but he forced himself to ignore it. "I… Yes, I did, actually. I'm going to see him tomorrow night."

"But that's great!" Merrill cooed. "Oh, Si, I'm so happy for you. Do you think-"

"Excuse me, but would you _terribly_ mind if we got started now?" Varric's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Some of us would actually like to play music, you know." Still, there was a friendly twinkle in his eyes, and when he slapped Simon's shoulder heavily, making him wince, it was a gesture of pure affection. "You can tell us more about your love life next time."

Simon nodded quietly as he reached for his guitar. _Yeah. If there's anything to tell._

* * *

Simon loved Christmas. Not even his job at the supermarket, where Christmas carols started blaring from the speakers around the middle of November and chocolate Santas went on sale even earlier, had been able to cure him of his love for everything related to the holiday. He simply adored it all, the cookies, the candles, the whole nine yards. And he was only too happy to spread the love.

The old town square had been fully decked out for the Christmas market, with tall pine trees covered in multi-coloured decorations and lights strung from one house to the other. The scent of mulled wine and gingerbread was in the air, and the orchestra playing carols in front of the old church was nearly drowned out by the sound of the bells from the spire.

The weather had turned a lot colder overnight, and everyone was heavily bundled up, but most people were smiling behind their thick scarves. Simon threw a worried glance at Anders, who seemed a tad overwhelmed by all the Christmas spirit, but he received a warm smile in return.

"Any Christmas shopping you had planned on doing?" Anders asked.

Simon shrugged. "I might have a look at the craft stalls, see if I can find something for my mom. She's into that kind of thing." He regretted the words the moment they'd left his mouth. _Mentioning your mom on your first date. Smooth, Simon, really smooth. Way to kill the mood._

But Anders was undaunted. "Good idea. You know, I've got this friend, Lirene, who loves traditional glass ornaments. Think we could find something suitable for her?"

"Sure. No problem. I think I saw a stall a moment ago." Simon was so relieved he was babbling again, and he quickly turned around to head for the stall in question.

"Hey. Don't get lost in the crowd, or I'll never find you again." With a cheery wink, Anders grabbed his hand, but immediately let go of it again with a yelp. "Damn, your hands are cold. Hey, I know what you need. Stay right here."

And then he was gone, but he was back moments later, with a large mug of mulled wine cradled between his hands. "Okay if we share?"

Simon nodded, unsure of what to say. Some part of him still couldn't believe that this was happening, that he was on an actual date, with someone who was interested in him, Simon Hawke. And Anders was so easy-going and relaxed about it all.

Pressing the mug into Simon's freezing hands, he wrapped his own fingers around them with a soft laugh. "That's better." There were fine laugh lines around his light brown eyes, and Simon realized Anders was probably a few years older than he'd seemed at first glance. But that was okay. He didn't mind.

"Thank you." He managed a tentative smile. Anders' hands were so warm, and it was so nice to be touched, so nice to have someone who took care of him. Leaning forward, he took a careful sip of the steaming hot wine. It tasted of cinnamon and cloves, and it was strong and warm and good. "Mmhmm, delicious."

"Yeah?" Anders was watching him intently, and his hands were still there, touching him, holding him tight. "Let me try some."

He leaned in, and Simon felt a strand of soft blond hair brush against his hands as he took a sip. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine. They finished the mug together, carefully balancing it between them as they took turns to drink from it. The sky above them was dark except for a few stars, and the cold didn't matter, not even a little bit. All around them, people were chattering away, bartering with the vendors at the craft stalls or discussing their purchases, but Simon didn't even hear them. He was happier than he had been in months, if not years.

"Simon?" There was a small hitch in Anders' voice as he put the empty mug aside. "I know we've only just met, but… Can I kiss you?"

"Here? Now?" Simon could have slapped himself the moment the words left his mouth, because he really had no objections to Anders kissing him, no matter the time or place.

Fortunately, Anders was undeterred. "Yeah. Right here, right now. May I?"

Simon's heart was racing so fast that he was beginning to worry he'd faint. "Sure. If you… I mean, I'd love-"

"Shhh." And Anders mouth was on his, firm but gentle, lips brushing against his in a mute question.

When Simon made a small, affirmative noise, Anders cupped his cheek with one hand and held him for as long as the kiss lasted. Which wasn't remotely long enough, as far as Simon was concerned, so when Anders let go, he leaned in for another kiss, and then yet another, each one deeper and hungrier than the last, until they finally let go of each other.

"Wow." Anders' eyes were shining with happiness and his hand was still resting on Simon's cheek, softly stroking his beard. "That was…"

"Yeah." Simon nodded eagerly, feeling too choked up to say more. "Wow."

He had no idea where this was going yet. But he was really looking forward to finding out.

* * *

 _Written for the CMDA Secret Santa fic exchange. Huggles and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven._


End file.
